Life With Darcy
by Charlie's Hazardous Relapse
Summary: My life has officially been flipped upside down. My mother, after a yearlong absence, wants me to be a part of her life again. This life includes her CEO fiance and my soon to be stepbrother...Fitzwilliam Darcy. I'm happy living with my dad, and I have little to no intention of spending time with my mom. So- if they think I'll go quietly, well they have another thing coming.
1. Angry

A/N: This was published … but then I wanted to edit. Now it's back! :D

I am Elizabeth Maeve Bennet. My name is weird, I am weird, my existence is weird, and this story is just a tad bit weird. _Weird._

I'm going to give you the rundown of my current life, okay?

The biggest part you should know right now, well, that would have to be the divorce. It's what caused _everything_, and I mean _everything_, you're about to read. My parents, Francesca and Mathew, who I always found to be in love, decided to split up last year. Sure, I didn't see it coming but we all have to be wrong sometimes. That I can deal with. I wasn't blind to the signs. We rarely are. I just choose to ignore them. They split up and I went to live with my dad. My mom didn't really want to take care of me at this point. She wanted to '_find herself_' and '_cleanse her cluttered soul'_. Why she couldn't wait until I was eighteen to go on this spiritual adventure, I'll never know.

The point is, for the last year or so it's just been me and dad. We've got our systems, our follies, and the occasional triumphs. It works. I like it. He likes it.

Mom doesn't.

See, she's finished with her _cleansing_ and _finding _and she's back now. She doesn't seem to think her year long absence has put a dent in our relationship at all. That and she has this CEO of a boy toy clinging to her like a lost puppy. Well, he's her fiancé now so he can't technically be a boy toy anymore… but only technically. His name is Steven. I call him Stewart just to piss him off; problem is it only pisses me off because he doesn't care. He wants me to like him, he really does, and that's why I can't help but feel guilty. I mean, I've decided mom is pretty much public enemy number one, so that makes him public enemy numero dos by the transitive property… and that makes his son number three.

Yeah, he has a kid. A really, seriously, annoyingly, hopelessly arrogant kid submerged in his decadent lifestyle. His name is… pft….haha… FITZWILLIAM. Seriously, what kind of name is that? Doesn't just scream 'look at me- I'm _rich'_? Also- what kind of parents are _that_ cruel?

But I digress. What I'm trying to say here is; I can't stand the guy. At seventeen, he's only a year older than me but eons less mature. He's a senior in high school and class president. Not to mention football team captian, baseball team star, and Harvard bound. Successful little Fitzwilliam. Everyone loves him and I hate it. Every time we talk, we don't. We argue and criticize. There is none of this 'talking' so to speak. That's about all I do in Steve/ Stewarts' house, argue with his son.

Yeah, I stay at their house now. It's only on weekends… and they have managed to monopolize my entire summer. It's seems like, if I have free time, it belongs to my mother and the Darcy's (The public enemy's last name).

You know what _really _sucks? Get this, my mother was ready to go to a custody hearing, guns blazing ,lawyers calculating, and my dad _reasoned_ with her. He made this little deal up without even _speaking _to me. With the risk of sounding like a raging cynic, I guess I'm not too trusting of him either anymore. I feel like he was eager to get me out.. just like mom had been. Is this how it's going to be for the next two years, skipping from house to house? I don't want that. That's not me.

Don't get me wrong, the house is impressive. Impressive in a _'look how expensive and decadent we can afford to live' _kind of way. The house has four levels, two decks, an outdoor pool (_there are two Plexiglas sides you can see into the pool with- TWO!_) , indoor hot tub, state- of- the- art kitchen, and countless other luxuries. I still get lost occasionally. One time I called it a mansion, which it totally is, and my mother got all upset. '_That doesn't matter Elizabeth! Don't think of it as a house, let alone a mansion, think of it as a home.' _Have I mentioned recently that I dislike my mother? I have? Well just for good measure, I really don't like her.

I have a plan. It shouldn't be that hard, really, it's already set in motion. Fitzwilliam Darcy is my way out. You see, my soon to be step brother already can't stand me… I just have to make sure he feels miserable in this house. He has to hate me so much he doesn't want to come home. My mother and Stewart will _have _to let me live out the rest of my high school years with my father. His son was here first, that has to form some kind of obligation. Darcy has a right to be here, more than I. I just have to make them see that. As I said before, I've got a good start.

I am going to argue. I am going to tease and taunt and bicker and complain until his ears bleed annoyance. It's going to be simple. He's easy to get riled up; it's real great fun to watch him. Most of the time, I'm not even the instigator, he is.

Next time I talk to you, you'll get an earful about Darcy. See, I'm going home for the week but- next Saturday the war begins.

Lizzie OUT.

A/N: Get this guys, I'm going to try for a longer story. Like, over five chapters long- *insert gasp here* Scary, I know, but I'm going to try. It should be fun… right? This was kind of the exposition of sorts (?) . Haha, see you whenever I see you. (updates will be kind of sporadic)

And hey- tell me what you thought. Ok?


	2. Miserable

Waking up sucks, I think as I glare at the offending alarm clock. Sleeping in an unfamiliar room sucks. Having to get out of bed sucks. Life sucks.

I don't even _remember setting _that alarm. No one should have to wake up at seven on a Saturday. _No one._

I sit up in bed and rub my eyes, not quite ready to face the day. I hate the room I'm in. Steve said I could decorate it however I want but… I'm not ready to make this home. I only have to stay here on weekends and during the summer. I can still be with dad…. most of the time. I still don't get why she would do this. Anyways, I've hardly even seen her since I've gotten here. In my mind, she doesn't want me here. I think she wanted to show dad up, prove that her life is better without him or something along those lines. Wanting to be in my life is a lie. Everybody lies. I don't like everybody all that well right now.

Well, at least I've got some time to myself. I've always liked sitting in bed. Completely alone. No one is around to tell me who I'm supposed to be, so I can remember who exactly it is I am.

I slump back down. I 'm going to sleep for a three good hours more. It's way too early to be contemplating about life like this. As I said before, waking up early on the weekend is inhuman. It takes a while but I start to feel drowsy. I let my eyes go into lock down just as there's a knock at the door. I flip over and groan into my pillow.

Assuming it's my mom, up bright and early to pester me first thing in the morning, I answer with a irritable ",Come in. It's unlocked."

"Your mother wants you to come down for breakfast."

I shoot up in my bed. That's not my mother's voice. Repeat, that is _not _my mother's voice. Tis' decidedly masculine. Decidedly conceited . Decidedly Darcy.

"Why the hell are you here?"

Standing in my doorframe is no other than Fitzwilliam Darcy. Yeah, just standing there looking all high and mighty…. in a snide 'y_ou're seriously not ready yet' _way. I speak the truth; his appearance depicts someone ready for the morning. At seven fleeping AM. All dressed in his stupid rich people clothes-Darcy looks ready to face life. Unlike me. I can't help but notice he has his dad's curly brown hair, though his isn't as styled as his fathers. He lets all the little curls free to wind and twist. His skin is obnoiziously light as his eyes are green, both a tad bit frightening. He has some serious nerve; standing there looking like Adonis this early in the morning. He also looks kind of pissed, so I can take that as a condolence.

"I kind of live here too. And may I add, before you ever did."

And then, with that signature air of entitlement, he turns on his heal to leave.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

When I finally get the energy to go downstairs, everyone is long gone. _That's cool_. Have Senor Stick in the Mud wake me up for breakfast only to bail. Real classy ,guys. Real classy.

While fancy, I hate the kitchen. It's not something that really fits into a 'home'. It would be better suited in a five star restaurant. It's cold and calculated. Black granite countertops span the area and match all the grays in the room. Everything is so shiny and perfect, I feel afraid to touch the appliances for fear of leaving fingerprints. It's not warm or homey or welcoming. It's Darcy.

My train of thought crashes when I hear my stomach growl in protest. While I'm here, I may as well grab some breakfast. I'm so tired, It's not even worth raiding the fridge. I'm still half zombie and not ready to try for humanity status. I take a looksey into the breadbox. Toast is about the only thing that sounds mildly appetizing. I mean, when in doubt eat carbs. Carbs are your friend. Carbs understand. Carbs don't wake you up at seven A.M on a weekend.

The breadbox is entirely empty. There is not a slice to be seen. Not a whiff of wheat. I would even settle for a roll of rye (if such a thing is even in existence.) Not even a crumb. It just sits there, all empty and mocking-ish. Stupid breadbox.

"C'mon, even prisoners get bread." I can't keep my complaints to myself. I mean, seriously, you spend countless dollars on a high end kitchen but you can't even manage to keep bread in stock. Normally, this wouldn't piss me off as much as it does. Maybe it's because it's early. Maybe it's because I'm used to dad buying the bread. Maybe it's because I'm _here_.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

My phone rings and I jump to my feet. The caller ID identifies my best friend in the whole entire word…. Jane. YES! Just like that, life is good again. She's one of those people that radiates happiness. Seriously, Jane walks into the room and people get happy. It's always positive with this chick. I need some positive.

I click the doobly doo on my phone to accept the call. I hear the faint crackle in my ear. I smile and give a grateful greeting to Jane.

"Jane!"  
"Hey, Lizzie…."

That little phrase set off a wave of suspension. Jane didn't sound… _peppy enough _to be Jane.

"You know how I was coming over next weekend?"

Crap. That didn't sound so good. See, my mother wanted me to adjust faster. Make this place home. Still not sure what exactly her intentions were, but nonetheless, she said Jane could spend next weekend with me. I haven't seen Jane for five months. That's like ten years in best friend time. She moved to New York for her dad's new job. Good excuse… but still. I'm not great with making friends and Jane is.

"I can't afford the ticket anymore. The price went way too high and…. My dad still hasn't cemented his position and I don't make enough at the Capt. Clucks to make it down. I'm so sorry, Lizzie. "

"Oh- um. Yeah, it's fine. I mean, I understand. Shit happens right?"

It's with that last sentence that I realize how dejected I sound; so I try to lighten it up.

"I guess I'll just have to describe how horrible Fitzwilliam Darcy is until you can get here….."

And from there on we talk like best friends are supposed to talk. Happy. Laughing. Whining. We don't talk about her visiting anymore. I just tell her all about Darcy and his infuriating self. I tell her about my mom and Steve. I tell her about my huge room. I tell her about the mansion I'm living in. I tell her about how I get lost in it sometimes.

I don't tell her about how completely and utterly miserable I'm feeling.

Authors Note: **TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!** I'm officially sixteen. I can drive….. and stuff. Yeah….

I'm done.

But you should totally review.

As a birthday present.


	3. Tired

I'm sitting on the couch and staring out the window, contemplating what I'm going to do next weekend when I hear the door open.

I'm pretty sure you can guess who it is.

So, Darcy walks deliberately over to the seat adjacent from the couch. He give me an intense look before saying-

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You look like you just ran over a puppy. What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sure, and that fat kid up the street is just big boned. You've been … more pissed off than usual. I want to what the problem is."

I want to laugh but I know I shouldn't. He's Darcy. He's the enemy. But he's also funny so I can't help but let a giggle escape. He has this tiny little smile in response. The smile seems to be talking more than he does. The smile is, for lack of a better word, nice. And I guess that's what makes it okay to tell him.

"It's my friend.. my best friend actually. She moved. Far away. A few months ago."

Why is it that I'm telling him about this? Maybe it's because he seems like he may care…. If only just a little bit. He's never been like this around me. I find it surprising but nice. I'm starting to think he may care more than most do in this house. My mom just blew me off earlier when I told her Jane couldn't come. I don't know why that stung just as bad. The not caring. I feel like an emotional watering pot. I see his expectant look, as though he awaits a further explanation. Being the dummy I am; I give it to him.

"She was supposed to come visit me next weekend. My mom thought it would make this more fun. Well, it turns out she can no longer afford the ticket and she can't miss school to drive up here. So . . ."

"Why not just find someone else to hang out with? I mean, if she can't come and she's never here… don't you need new friends?"

"They're not Jane. No one is like Jane. No one can listen like her. Talk like her. If you can just cycle your friends through, you wouldn't understand."

"I didn't mean it like- Wait. 'Cycle them through'? Whats that even supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. What _**I **_don'tunderstand is not appreciating what you have. I mean, at one point or another, those past friends you've forgotten about? Well they meant something to you. That should count for something."

He doesn't respond immediately. I'm expecting outrage but all I really get is this stoic contemplation. He finally turns his head to look at me. I can't help myself from noticing how vividly green his eyes are.

"You're an interesting girl Elizabeth Bennet. Really interesting."

"That's it?" I just insulted the guys' character, his opinions, and morality…. and all I get is an 'interesting indeed'. I don't think so. He gives a frustrated sigh before launching into his defense.

"People aren't meant to stick around."

I can plainly see that I've succeeded in frustrating him. His skin is flushed and his fists clenched. This plan of mine is getting to him. I take some pride in that. And by _some_, I mean oodles. Oodles and oodles of it. Yes, I enjoy my oodley pride.

"Tad bit cynical aren't you, Darcy," I spit his name out like a bad taste on my tongue. "I wonder what _family time_ is going to be like in _this_ house."

"Spare me the sarcasm. Meeting you was enough; I have zero interest in actually spending time with you. I'm only here because my father told me to."

That remark hurts a little more than it should. I don't care if he likes me. I'm happy he doesn't want to be around me…. Ok, I'm not sure if I can convince myself of this. Even if I don't like him and vice versa…. Whatever happened to a little thing called tact?

You know what; he wants to play like that? I'll play like that.

I will get you back Darcy. I will make sure of that.

Idiot.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

I'm leaving now because, I swear if I don't I might just punch my soon to be step bro in his high class face. I get off the couch and start walking away. If he's confused he's not voicing it- so I keep going. I go and go until I'm thoroughly lost in this annoying ass mansion. I go up a few flights of stairs until I'm at least sure I'm on the correct level of this madhouse. I amble about the endless puzzle of halls until I find my room. FINALLY. They need to install a directory.

As I freefall onto my bed, I'm feeling some conflicting emotions. There's this disappointment tugging at me. I mean, I was REALY looking forward to Jane visiting me. When times are tough, the tough need their besties to sit by them and agree that times are tough and that life sucks in general. That's just how it works. We we're going to do all those fun things; the same fun things that we've been missing out on since she left. Then I guess there was a small triumph that was just won. I got Darcy to fight with me. All part of the plan. I know I should feel happier at the small start, but I can't help but feel completely and utterly drained. I _need _to have that 'last word' in every argument. I just do. Sometimes, my brain gets a little fried as it searches for that last scathing statement. At least, it does after being forced into vocal combat relentlessly.

William Darcy. He is on the list. _The _Shit List. The list reserved for only those vile enough not to constitute has human beings in my eyes any more. Okay, maybe not that far but, I can't stand him. At all. And not only am I sick of him; I'm sick of his words, his family, and his face. I see a picture of him and I get annoyed. Instantly. It's like I'm allergic.

Maybe I could work that angle to get out of this place. I can see it now….

"_Mom, I need to leave this house. Like, forever. It is detrimental to my health."_

"_What do you mean, Elizabeth?"_

"_I'm allergic to Darcy. Deathly."_

"_Oh my goodness! We better send you off to your father's! I'd hate to have you fall ill under my watch."_

…. Okay. I get it, that conversation is just a little farfetched. If only, if only… Oh well, a girl can dream can't she? I've been dreaming a lot lately actually. Those dreams usually involve physical harm to a certain Darcy boy.

We've been fighting constantly since I've started coming here. As I said before, I'm getting sick of it. I know I know, _Lizzie what about your plan? This is the way out! He's more than willing to fight! _Well guys, a girl go only bicker for so long. I need to find new ways to get on their nerves. Ways that don't lead to constant exhaustion.

I don't like were this is going. I need to rethink my escape plan.

Lizzie OUT.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I do think I will finish this though. I mean, I've got an _outline. _AN OUTLINE.

…Yeah. So tell me whatchya' think.

PEACE.

P.s. Thank you for the birthday wishes.


	4. Refreshed

GUYS. GUESS WHAT!

You know what? Actually- no time for guessing!

**JANE IS COMING!**

I don't know how she got the money or the late ticket or why she won't tell me how or anything for that matter, but frankly- I DON'T CARE.

It's Jane and she can come next weekend!

I AM SOO PUUUUMPED. I AM SOO HAAAAPY. THIS IS GONNA ROOOOCK.

Okay, I will stop with the mental singing now. But still-

Don't you just love that moment when the absolute definition of disappointment is replaced with a feeling of pure excitement and happiness? Rhetorical question- but I don't care. I love it. I love it so fracking much.

She called this morning to tell me. She called at like six A.M. my time and I didn't even mind all that much. I was sleeping and then I was talking and now I am spazzing.

The thing is though, she was super duper vague. I mean she told me when she was coming and all that jazz, but she kept avoiding the _how_. Like _how did you find the cash? _Or perhaps _how is it that you could actually procure a ticket? _My plan is to interrogate her once she actually gets here.

I have absolutely everything planned out to the dot. The freaking dot man. It's been planned.

I borrow my mom's car, pick Jane up, go get some orange leaf froyo to celebrate, and then take her to the house to set her up in the guest room directly adjacent to mine. From there on we will have crazy adventures in bookstores, embarrassing moments in public place, and daring explorations in the gigantic mansion of a house.

It's going to be totally WICKED.

That is, it will be totally wicked next week. Until then I have the waiting.

I'm sitting in the second largest living room in the house and thinking about this waiting. And, yeah, they have multiple living rooms.

Anyways, I'm just sitting there minding my own business and thinking about Jane coming to visit when the doorbell rings. I'm not expecting anyone, so I look around for a second, half anticipating someone to come running and welcome their guest. It's been a couple a moments and nobody comes. I guess that leaves me, right? I mean, I'm not a social butterfly or anything but I'm also not the kind of person to leaves someone waiting on the front steps.

I open the door to a grinning idiot.

Seriously, he has this shit eating grin. It's that kind of smile that practically screams 'I'm oblivious to all things bad'. He also has red hair. Everything about him is just… _bright_.

A male ginger version of Jane is standing at the door.

And he's kind of hot. I mean, he's probably around six foot and has the face of a Greek god. Not to mention, he's got this polo on that's tight around the muscles on his arms and these hands that are- wow. Time to stop creeping, Liz….

"Who are you?"

It's hard to tell who says it first. His voice is upbeat whilst mine is befuddled.

"Wait a marvelous minute , are you Elizabeth? Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Uh… um, yes. Yeah. I am."

He thrusts his hands onto one of mine. He starts giving me this enthusiastic handshake; enclosing one of my hands with both of his.

"I have heard so much about. Frankly, he simply won't shut up! Elizabeth this or Elizabeth that. It's like you have some kinda hold on him! I'm Charlie by the way. Charles Bingley."

Ohhh my.

I am sooo confused. I doubt that I caught half of what he just said. My social interaction for the day has exceeded its limit in a matter of minutes. This guy has a talent. Or a curse. I'm not entirely sure yet.

"Hi."

I know I know I KNOW, OKAY? Random hot guy at doorstep that actually knows I exist and all I can be bothered to say is '_hi'_. What's next? Do I ask if he wants to be my new friend? If he wants to share crayons while we fill in coloring books?

"Charlie!"

It's Darcy. He's running down the stairs, presumably to push me out of the way and take his friend to a (Lizzie free) safe environment. This is actually the first time I've seen him today and it's almost four. Do I carry the plague or something? Any who, he doesn't seem to notice me until he physically gets to the door.

And he's staring. Just looking at me, like he can't quit figure out why I'm here talking to his friend. Well, Darcy, if you don't want your friends to see me; maybe you should actually answer the fugging DOOR!

Charlie is now staring at Darcy, Darcy's shooting eye daggers at me, and I'm still drooling over Charlie. And it is suffocating quiet. I bet I could listen to the gossip from a flea tea party. If such a thing existed, which they totally should; I mean tea and parasites? They seem like things that would go well together.

Oh my. I seem to have gone off on a tangent again haven't I? Don't answer that.

"Hey, you know what? Me and Darcy here were going to go play some Call of Duty…. You want to join?" Charlie is officially cool.

"I don't think that Eliza-"  
Darcy never has been.

"I'd love to, Charlie."  
And I always will be.

_A/N: Sorry that this chapter is kind of short. Please don't kill me! I already have half of the next one finished if that is any consolation. _

_Anywho- you should totally review this chapter. I mean- you got to finally meet Charlie! And….. Jane is coming! What else do you want from me?!_

_Live Long and Prosper_

_CHARLIE_


	5. Remarkable

I kicked major ass in COD. But, then again, did you expect differently? I am Elizabeth Maeve Bennet (if you required any reminding) and I shit you not. Compared to me, these guys are pansies in the art of virtualized warfare. I beat- no I DOMINATED them both. Maybe I can charge these rich kids for gaming lessons. Scratch that- maybe I can charge _Darcy. _Charlie is too cool for that. I'll teach him the ways of the gaming proficient for free. How generous am _I_?

Don't answer that. I might just blush.

We're sitting in the recreation room in front of the television we used during our gaming binge. I'm sitting in the couch with Charlie directed in front of the screen. Darcy opted to sit angled off in the loveseat like the agoraphopic lobster he is. The doorbell rings again and mister antisocial gets up to announce that the pizza has arrived.

My stomach starts speaking in a series of grumbles and noises that I'm hesitant to describe. Yeah… that bad. Charlie defiantly noticed also.

"Hey, Lizzie, pizza?"

"Well, I actually have a book waiting for me in my room."

Yes, I would totally skip free pizza for a book. A book I've already too. Sue me.

I've read _The Fault in Our Stars_ about four times as of this moment, but does that matter? It's a book that you can read ten times over and never tire of. You find things deeper than before, more special and precious with each reading.

Oh my, I'm rambling again. Sorry bout' that!

"C'mon, you can eat while you read! Can't you?"

"I guess…."

For Charlie, _TFIOS_ can wait. Temporarily.

"Then it's settled! Darcy, my man, I'll go pay the pizza guy. You keep Lizzie entertained."

Charles bolts out of the room before either of us, Darcy and I that is, can protest. Seriously, the guy jumped off the couch and practically sprinted out of the den.

It's just me… and Darcy…. and the awkward. Oh the awkward. It's such an intense awkward I bet we could slice it with a pizza cutter.

"He sure is subtle isn't he…" I can hear Darcy mutter sarcastically. Someone isn't too happy about their one on one time with a certain Bennet. I wonder who it could possibly be.

"Scared to be alone with me, Darcy? I promise I won't bite…. Too hard."

He just scoffs and looks at me for a moment. He's deciding something. Perhaps he's not sure if I'm telling the truth. I have been known to possess a violent streak, you know, and I bit other kids until I was six. Don't judge six year old me. Everyone does shit at six. I bet you ate paste didn't you? DIDN'T YOU!? YOU LITTLE LYING GLUE SMACKER!

Sorry, tender subject.

"Elizabeth…"

"Yeah, Darcy?"

"What scares you?"

"You mean besides clowns, spiders, small spaces and –"

"Yes. Besides that."

On one hand, I'm kind of conflicted. Should I answer sincerely ? I don't know. I mean, I know exactly what frightens me. It's always been there. I just don't know if I should tell Darcy. I know that he doesn't like me, and I know that I've given him good reasons not to, but…. At the same time I want him to still respect me as a person. Vulnerability is weakness and weakness does not constitute as a grounds for respect. Eva'.

On the other hand, it _has_ always been there and I want to let it out. I don't want to silently fret anymore over this one big thing.

I don't know why he has this sudden interest in me or if I trust it; however, If he's offering to listen…. Why shouldn't I?

"What horrifies me the absolute most is the idea of being useless; that even if I am _intelligent_ and _brilliantly promising_, I could easily fade into something completely average. That I'll put _amazing_ off until I can't accomplish anything. Until I'm tied down. I'm afraid that I'm never going to be remarkable. … is that weird?"

I hear a slight intake of breath. Mine or his; never to be known.

"I've heard weird is a side effect of remarkable."

"…"

There is a quiet that settles over us. I want to ask what he would exactly define remarkable as; what it is that makes a person utterly extraordinary. So I do. At first, all I get is this look, and when he does speak it is with a distinct caution in his reply; like he's not sure if it's absolutely safe to answer my question. I don't blame him. Really, nothing ever ends well when I persist in conversing. It's almost always in a pursuit to get him angry.

In order to get me away from here… from mom. I don't know why, but in moments like these… I feel guilty. Like he doesn't deserve what I've done to him. Or his dad for that matter. It's like they're casualties in my mother and I's silent war.

AHHHH-

I should not be getting this thoughtful waiting for pizza. I should be worrying about topping; not my life choices!

"It's not being afraid to be weird; having ideas that just won't quit. When you plan but are always willing to change everything around you, the world included."

"That's setting a pretty high bar."'

"Lizzie, being remarkable isn't always about what you do. It's about who you are."

"You've never called me Lizzie before."

"I save nicknames for remarkable people."

And just like that….

We weren't enemies anymore.

_Authors note: Don't worry guys. This truce won't last for long. We have to get Jane over and avenge her, do we not? Updates may be kind of slow for the next three weeks. The end of school is coming up but I'll be able to write a lot more during summer vacation. It's like a couple months a year without deadlines. Now I'll be giving myself deadlines. Oh joy…._

_Well, I hope you guys liked it and I hope you all review. It means more than you know when you do. _


	6. Excited

Fitzwilliam Darcy's sitting on my bed as I brush my hair and style it into a braid. He's pretty much silent the entire time, making eye contact through the mirror I'm staring at. I can see his face twitch microscopically before he starts to speak.

"So," Will starts ", Can I come? You know, to meet the infamous Jane. I've heard that she's something special."

I tie the end of my braid.

"Sorry, Fitzy," I gave him that nickname a couple days ago ", this is a best friend thing. No boys allowed."

He lets out a groan and I instantly know what's coming. Turning towards him, I wait for the mini monologue.

"I had _absolutely_ no choice in my name. For some reason, my mother thought that she should curse be with a name from the eighteen hundreds before running off to Mexico. Not my fault. So- Do. Not. Call. Me. FITZY!"

"Okay…..Fitzy." And I am OUT OF THERE. I am sprinting out of my room and down the stairs because I know what happens next.

"LIZZIE!"

Ahh, Fitzy….

I go straight to the kitchen and lunge for the keys to my mother's car. She said I could borrow it for the day. I can heat the thumping of Wills feet as he runs after me. But I'm faster. When I run out of books to read, I go running. Not like _around the block a couple times running_, more like _hey I'm bored… four miles sounds like fun running._ So, point being, I'm faster than ol' Fitzy.

I find the nearest exit to the lawn and take it. It's by the patio; so I take a chair and jam it against the door, effectively stalling my pursuer's chase. I glance around to locate the garage and start sprinting again.

When I get in the car I am positively GASPING. I can run, sure, but I cannot sprint worth shit. I mean, I'm fast at it but not that for that long. Too much sprinting. Oh God, I think I'm dying.

I see him running towards me and lock the doors.

Better luck next time, William.  
Today, I am victorious.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The gate for Jane's flight is PACKED. There must have been a business conference or something because everyone _a._) above thirty and _b._)wearing a suit. Needless to say, my jeans and button up tank are out of place. The pink polka dots on my shirt stick out like sore thumbs in this sea of black and grey.

And also, I'm tall but apparently not tall enough. All these guys standing in front of me are freaking lofty! I can't watch for Jane behind all these suited giants! It's not like I have x-ray vision and can see throught this guys head!

I tap on the shoulder of the man in front of me in hopes that he may facilitate my advancement to the front.

Before I go on, may I ask of you a simple answer to a very simple question? WHY ARE ALL THE GUYS I'VE BEEN MEETING SO FLIPPING ATTRACTIVE?

Seriously, this guy looks like a model from Abercrombie and Fitch. Blonde hair shining, blue eyes twinkling- it's the stuff of movies. And suddenly, I find suits extremely attractive. Apparently, this over thirty rule of mine doesn't apply to him. Dude looks twenty something! Maybe he's picking up the boss.

"Can I help you, miss?"

OHMYGOD. He called me _miss_. I don't think I've ever been called _miss_.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for my friend and… um, your head… it's kind of-"

"In the way?"

I look at his smile and give a numb nod in response. He grins, extending his arm in handshake.

"George. George Wickham. I apologize for my heads transgression against you."

"Oh, no- Your head is fine!"

"Why thank you, miss…..what did you say your name was?"

"Elizabeth," I say breathlessly. I officially sound like a bimbo. Congrats, Lizzie. You have officially lost half your intelligence in….. two seconds? That has to be a record.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Elizabeth. Now, how about we try to get you to the front, hmm?"

I nod numbly. He grabs me loosely by the arm and somehow manages to get me to the front of the crowd. His fingertips are firm and warm, confident. Before I know it, we are in front of all the suits. The gate opens just as I turn to thank him, but he is already gone. Lost in a sea of suits.

I crane my neck in an effort to locate my comrade. AHH- THERE SHE IS IN ALL HER JANE-HOOD. She's wearing a green and purple butterfly dress. It's flowy around her curves and extremely flattering. Her golden hair is softly curled in waves and her makeup immaculate finished. Totally Jane. Totally my best friend.

I let out an embarrassing squeak and practically tackle her.

**Authors Note: Hey guys! Sorry this took so long. I have finals coming up and have been SUPER DUPER busy. I know this wasn't exactly the chapter you wanted but I've got a more satisfying one in the works. This fulfilling chapter is already half way done…. So be happy!**

**I know a lot of people have reviewed, favorite, and followed this story. I'd like to thank you for that… and ask you to review if you haven't so far. PLEASE. I'M BEGGING YOUUUU!**


	7. Ambivalence

**Authors Note:**

**This chapter is dedicated to ****JhaniiAllii****. Because dude- she wrote TWS!  
And besides that she's pretty fantastic. She also influenced this chapter bunches, whether she realizes it or not.**

Jane laughs when I greet her. She missed the melodramatics I provided in her live. This tackle of love was exactly what she needs. She may not admit to that, but it's totally true. She loves the crazy; just like I love hers. It's a mutual madness we've got going on.

"Lizzie! It's not like I died! Calm yourself!"

"I can't!" I can hear her gasping for breath, so I let go…. Reluctantly.

We start spazzing out right there in the middle of the airport, completely oblivious to the suited stairs we receive. I tell her about all the plans I've made for her first day here and she agrees that it will all be wickedly awesome.

Next stop? FROYO!

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o**

The cake batter flavored frozen yogurt melts in my mouth. It's so amazing, it's like I can feel the flavors dance on my tongue. It's so good, I want to take it to Vegas and get elope with it. It's so heavenly, I almost miss Jane's voice addressing me.

"So," Jane whispers conspiratorially ", what's up with this Darcy kid?"

I take a bite of yogurt and shrug. "He's pretty cool."

"But I thought you said he was a," she pauses in thought ", _narcissistic jerk with delusions of godhood. _How can he go from _that_ to _pretty cool?" _

"I don't know! It's like one moment he was **FITZWILLIAM DARCY** _jerk extraordinaire_ and now he's just Will."

"Well what about him?"

"Who?"

She sighs in exasperation. "Will, Lizzie! If **Fitzwilliam Darcy** was a huge jerk who is _just Will_?"

I give her a shrug, not entirely sure myself. I mean, I haven't exactly come to a decision about precisely what Will is to me yet.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o**

We get home just in time for dinner.

_Yay….._

Let me fill you in on something. Dinner was supposed to be me, Jane, and Will. She wanted to get to know him and I've decided he's in the clear and cam be trusted with Jane. Will decided to invite Charlie so no one could be left out in the conversation. By proxy, Charlie was forced to bring along Caroline.

Now, at this point you're probably freaking out. _WHO IS THIS? FRIEND? GIRLFRIEND? ARCHITECT?_

Well, maybe not that last one.

Anyways, she is none of these. She is Charlie's overbearing, idiotic, conceited, aggravating-

_*deep breath*_

She's his sister.

Apparently, she weaseled _her_ way into _our_ dinner. And she has succeeded thus far in ruining it. Jane is completely silent the entire time. Everytime she says something, Caroline critiques her entire person. The girl is scared to ask for salt, goddamn it! I DEMAND SALT RIGHTS FOR MY FRIEND.

I mean, what kind of world do we live in when a sweet girl like Jane can't even season her food properly. It's a kind of world I don't want to live in, that's what it is!

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o**

"Charles, you should go on like a date with my friend London. She's so pretty. You'll love her!"

Caroline is surfing through her phone (totally not cool at the dinner table) for _London's _number, Charlie is sputtering out a response, Darcy is trying to not slam his face into the table, Jane is watching Charlie, and I am going diffuse this horrible tension with what I do best. Quoting.

"'That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfast cereals based on color instead of taste.'" *

Caroline starts staring at me like I've developed a second head. In response, I merely shrug. If she can't appreciate the genius of John Green, I can't appreciate her.

"I speak fluently in the quotable language."

"That's _literally_ weird."

"I'll take weird."

"No, I mean like super weird."

Charlie finally found his words, and said his sister's name sternly, as if that would deter her. Poor naïve Charlie. He's lived with her for all seventeen of his years. If I can tell she's Satan in the short span ten minutes; what's taking him so frackin' long?

"I tend to think that we're all a little weird."

"I'm not."

"Not to yourself. To some people, you would be extremely." She openly scoffed at this.

"Like who?"

"For example?" I pretend to contemplate my answer deeply, "Me."

This produced a whole new tirade that I would not dare subject you to. So I'll summarize. Overuse of the word like. Misuse of the word literally. Hair Flipping. Pointless and unfulfilling arguing. And in the end, I let her feel like she had won when really all she accomplished was giving me a headache.

She also flirted shamelessly with Darcy. Almost every other sentence that came out of her mouth was to compliment Will. It made me a little sick. I mean, he's cool and everything but no gift to mankind.

Needless to say, dinner fell through. Though a few redeemable moments did happen.

I think the best part of dinner had to be washing our hands afterwards. And by our, I mean Jane and Charlie's. I was drying of my fingers off when I happened to glance over and bear witness to this:

_Charlie cupped his hands into a bowl under the running faucet, letting the liquid flow over his cupped palms and into the sink. _

"_Wow," he exclaimed turning to Jane ", this water is getting really out of hand."_

I could hear Jane giggle at his little joke and just like that-

I knew she was a goner.

**Authors note: *If you didn't pick up on it- this is a John Green quote. In no way am I so cool as to think of something like that.**

**Also, I hope you like it! **

**You should totally review. I'll send you a digital hug. TWO DIGITAL HUGS. Just for you. And everybody else who reviews.**


	8. Atypical

You know those moments when you let your geek free? When you take that inner nerd living in you out for a walk? I'm having one of those moments with Fitzy. You see, I found some of these dinosaur shaped erasers for your pencils. But I'm not using them for pencils….. or for erasing. I'm acting out the day to day interactions of different dinosaurs. Darcy walked in on this little display earlier and decided to join in the awesome. You can't blame him.

He's a Megalasaurus.

I'm an Apatosaurus.

It's a party.

He takes Mr. Mega and wobbles him over to Appie. We spend some time talking about the dino weather , sightseeing at a volcano, and generally doing dinosaur-esque things. That is… until Darcy decides it's time to get violent. Tangent alert, but why do boys always feel the need to get violent? Mr. Mega suddenly lunges at Appie's neck. The erasers engage in a squabble of the ages, but sadly there is little hope for Apatosaurus; Mr. Mega is truly superior in the art of prehistoric warfare. Appie manages to gasp out a single parting sentence with his last pseudo dinosaur breath.

"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!*"

At this we both burst out laughing. It's not like this is a single chortle either. We are literally on the floor, rolling around, gasping for oxygen, and practically dying. Good times …. Good times.

When we finally calm down, I pull myself upright and sit up against the wall. Fitzy sits up alongside and looks around.

"You haven't really decorated your room."

I shrug nervously., trying to concoct a response to that.

"It's no big deal. I mean, I'm only here on the weekends."

"Yeah but…. I mean the summer is coming up."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Summer."

"Here."

"Oh."

I had completely forgotten. I have to spend the entire summer here with Mom and her fiancé. Ew. And Fitzwilliam Darcy. And that's not so ew I guess.

"So….." he breaks the awkward silence that has developed ", do you know when Jane can visit again? She seemed pretty nice."

I fake gasp in horror. "Does someone have a crush?"

He smiles slightly and says he doesn't have a crush on Jane. Good thing too. Jane has been talking about Charlie constantly and vice versa. They _will _be together. **5ever**. I will make sure of this. They have turned into my **OTP**.

Do I sound like I've spent far too long on tumblr?

Cuz' I have. I totally have.

**0OoO0O0OoO0OoO0O0OoO0OoO0O0OoO**

Okay, last night I planned on sleeping in. Like, I'd stay up, clear my moring scheduale and sleep through the beginning of the day. Jane decided to mess up my plan. Not that I'm mad- I'm just tired.

"Lizzie!" Sometimes I forget that Jane is a morning person. Morning people are hard to love. I just can't relate; all the coffee in Columbia couldn't make me a morning person. I'm only a morning person on Christmas.

I give a long yawn before mumbling a foggy greeting.

"You sound like you're about to fall asleep, Lizzie!" she laughs before adding conspiratorially ", Who kept you up last night?"

"Matt Smith, Benedict Cumberpatch, Tom Hiddlestom- In short? It was a crazy night on tumblr."

"You and your tumblr."

"You and you're calling me _way_ too early. Is this going to be an occurring pattern of yours? Cuz I'm not supportive of it. At all."

"Haha, and ten o'clock is _soooo_ early, " she says sarcastically ",Anyways, you know why I'm calling."

"I do?" I ask sleepily. I totally don't know why she's calling.

"Yes," she says exasperatedly ", Charlie call me today. Did you give him my number?"

"Are you upset that I gave him your number?" I ask catiously.

Charlie came over to hang out with Will and I yesterday. We had been playing Call of Duty (I was giving lessons) when the Bingley boy randomly blurted out, asking for my best amigas digits of awesomeness. I sent it with a satisfied smile of success. I love alliteration.

"Not exactly but-"

"Then you're welcome. Love you. Now I'm going back to sleep."

And I do.

**0OoO0O0OoO0OoO0O0OoO0OoO0O0Oo**

"I know him!"

We're sitting in front of the television, Darcy and I that is, when I see his face again. George Wickham. Only he's different. He no longer looks like a guy in his twenties…. closer to somewhere between fort and death honestly. He's been arrested on drug charges and apparently some other stuff the police haven't disclosed yet. _Ongoing investigation _and apparently this isn't his first time. Not even his second. Or third for that matter. Or fourth- You know what? I'll cut to the chase. He's been arrested seven times.

What a great way to end your day, right? Find out you were attracted to criminal.

"How?" Fitzy has a hard edge to his voice.

"Helped me at the airport," I say laconically, suddenly in no mood for conversation. He must realize this, because he gives a tight nod and drops it.

Good move.

_Authors Note: * I did not create this line nor do I know who did. I've seen it referenced and I've simply observed that it seemed like a Lizzie Bennet kind of thing to say. I take no credit._

_BY THE FREAKING WAY….. sorry this has taken so long. I have no good reason but then again I don't need one. I'm the one writing it. MWAHAHA. _

_And the whole Wickham thing…. I hope you're okay with him just being shipped off to the big house. I didn't feel like dealing with him._

_REVIEW PLEASE. Tell me what you liked or any suggestions/ ideas you have. I would absolutely LOVE to hear them._


	9. Forgotten

Today I will be in the spotlight for story time. I will be telling you the story of a very very _very_ shitty birthday. My seventeenth birthday to exact. I'm going to share the tale of how it all went downhill.

_-Earlier Today-_

I love birthdays. It's like you go to sleep so young but wake up fundamentally changed. You feel so much older: mature.

Not. Seriously, I do love birthdays but I don't like that one day your sixteen and the next your seventeen. A day doesn't make that big of a difference. Oh well. At least there's cake.

AND PRESENTS. Gotta' love the presents.

My dad gave me a present last week. I got books, comics, and iTunes gift card. The man knows me well. I was supposed to spend the day with him but he had to leave for Texas. Apparently his company needed him at a meeting. I told him that I understood and that I wasn't upset. That last part wasn't entirely true; however, I don't want to make him feel bad. He said that he'd call but that I had to stay with my mother.

Anyways, back to my birthday. I woke up around nine, thinking I'd go downstairs and grab some breakfast. Perhaps bask in my birthday wishes and such.

My mother and Steve are both at the table eating some scrambled eggs and bacon. It smells_ heavenly _and my stomach growls.

"Hey, is there any bacon left? I'm starving."

"Elizabeth," my mom says exasperatedly ", If you want food make some. It's not our job."

Shocked, I nod slightly. I open the fridge and duck in, looking for sustenance. It feels weird that no one has mentioned my birthday yet so I subtly hint at it.

"It's a really nice day today."

She didn't look up or respond.

"I might read some of the books dad gave me on the patio today."

This got her attention. She speaks in a spiteful tone. "Why would he be buying you books?"

Steve just sits there in confusion. His fork of eggs frozen midair.

"He shouldn't be buying her anything. We can afford -."

"Mom," I cut her off ", you know why he bought me books."

I close the fridge door then and look at her, my eyes pleading with her to remember. Remember the date. Remember about me. But she doesn't. She only sighs in annoyance.

"I can assure you, Elizabeth, that I have no clue what you're talking about."

I just nod, no longer hungry. I decide that I should go somewhere else, to be alone because I'm hurting. She just forgot. I probably shouldn't be surprised considering how we avoid each other… but still. I'm her only child. She should care more than that. I'm her daughter.

**O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

By the time I get down to the library, I'm already crying. Not sobs or anything melodramatic like that, just silence. Little droplets crawling down my face and onto my neck. I may dislike her, but I know when it's her birthday. I don't forget that she's there as a person. As my mom.

I sit down on the couch and stare out the large window next to one of the taller bookshelves. I wipe at my cheeks, but the water flows relentlessly. God I hate crying. You eyes get bloodshot, the lids are swollen, and it takes too much war paint to cover up. Makeup is way too expensive for this shit.

I'm so engrossed with my sniveling that I don't here the door open. I only realize that Will's entered when he's standing right in front of my. My intake of breath is audible and he crouches down to look me in the face.

"Lizzie, what's wrong?"

I bite my lip and look at him for a few moments.

"It's my birthday."

"Then why are you crying?" he sounds nervous "I'm sorry but, your mom, she didn't tell me so… I didn't know it was your birthday…"

"Neither did she," I manage to croak out.

"She forgot your birthday?" he asks, utterly astounded. I nod mutely.

"Lizzie, we're going to fix this."

**O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie arrives at our doorstep with a box of cupcakes in tote. Will called him after the library scene and asked if we could have a three man party. He asked what my favorite cake was but I told him that I like cupcakes of the light variety.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Liz! You ready for our party of three?"

"Haha, totally!" I'm also ready for cupcakes-_lots of cupcakes_.

"You know, if you wanted, it could have been a party of four."

I give him I confuzzled look, so he elaborates.

"Caroline wanted to come really badly," he laughed ", though after dinner the other night, I thought you'd appreciate her absence."

I nod vigorously. Caroline could easily make a bad birthday worse.

**O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

It's about ten at night when Charlie's mom calls him to give the marching orders. It's time for my ginger friend to say adieu. And after I say my international goodbyes, he announces that a group birthday hug is in order.

In under five seconds, I'm sandwiched between the him and Fitzy. Looking back, I'm so thankful for that moment. They made me momentarily forget about my parents and for that I am grateful.

"For this, I'm going to teach you both how to kick ass in Call of Duty. Free of charge."

**O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0O0o0**

I'm washing the plates in the sink, forgoing the dishwasher. It's nice to just stand there washing and forgetting. The cupcakes Charlie brought were sublime. He got three different flavors: confetti, strawberry, and vanilla. My favorites.

I'm reminiscing the taste of confetti when I hear footsteps. I turn around just in time to watch my mother let out a frustrated sigh and tap her left foot, like I've done something wrong.

"Why are you doing that? We don't pay that maid service for nothing. You're such a troublesome girl!"

"Well, you're a mother who forgets her only child's seventeenth birthday!"

_Whoa…. where did that come from?_

"Oh my god. I forgot….." she mumbles ",that's why you were talking about the books. I forgot."

"Yeah," I say sharply "You forgot. But who can blame you? I mean, after walking out like-"

"I forgot, okay? But just because your father is _soo_ perfect-"

"What was so wrong with dad anyways?" I'm shouting now "What makes this new guy any better?"

"Your father didn't have any money!"

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. Did she just say what I think she said?

"You…. You're marrying him for money?"

She stares at me, emotionless.

"Go to bed, Elizabeth."

As much as I'd like to defy her, I'm tired and she's no longer worth staying up and screaming. As I shuffle dejectedly up the stairs, I experience something I never thought I'd feel. That even Steve doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to have my mother draining him of his money. Doesn't deserve marriage under false pretenses. Doesn't deserve me invading his home.

I'm going to fix this.

**Authors note: Hey guys! Fast update. Respect. I know the last one was kind of short, so I felt bad. Now you get drama. Lots of drama. I don't really know what else to say, so I'm going to stop now. *cue applause***

**Anywho, please review. Tell me what you think. Also, if you have an idea for a one shot, I'd like to take some requests. Buh-bye! **


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